


I get nervous every single day (baby you’re mine)

by zimriya



Series: The last flame of my life (a Homin ABO AU) [10]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Mating Bond, alpha changmin, omega yunho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15827541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: “I’m sorry. You want me to wear a shitty slogan t-shirt?” Changmin says. “Why?” Canon AU.





	I get nervous every single day (baby you’re mine)

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Hexmen and Kinah. All other mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title is from ‘Top of the World’ by TVXQ, as the series goes.
> 
> There is an image in this. As always, it won't make your screen scroll if you have it in portrait mode. (I read like. Exclusively on phone. I know the pain. I tried.)
> 
> [PRIMER](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/aboau)

**I get nervous every single day (baby you’re mine)**

\--

“I’m sorry. You want me to do what?” Changmin says.

Standing in the doorway of their hotel room, Youngtak-hyung sighs. “Changmin-ah.”

Changmin continues squinting at the older man, entirely untrusting of what is essentially a gift horse, as the metaphor goes. You’re not supposed to look them in the mouth. “You _want_ me to wear a shitty slogan t-shirt?” Changmin gets all up in the molars anyway. “Why?”

Yountak-hyung schools his features into something resembling a smile. “I thought you liked the t-shirts?” he tries. He darts a look at the stylist-noona who brought the thing the moment he’d asked for it. “Didn’t you buy them all?”

Changmin did, is the thing. This specific one, was part of a set of two other train wreck t-shirts that he wore in and out of Gimpo airport when Yunho was off saying goodbye to the public parts of his family and learning how to serve the country. The thing is, Changmin knows for a fact that the only reason he got away with wearing all three of them was the fact that Yunho was off saying goodbye to the public parts of his family and learning how to serve the country. Also, it was SM Town in Japan. SM’s always kinder when they perform SM Town in Japan. It is what it is, especially when your fanbase could swallow several of your other company-mates’ combined.

Changmin doesn’t know when he wore the shirt this one is clearly based on specifically, but either way, Yunho wasn’t around to shout at him. Which… may or may not have been the point Changmin was going for when he purchased the things. Maybe.

Regardless, he bought them.

“I bought one,” he says, trying to save face with Youngtak-hyung. “Not that one, though.” The man looks moderately pained. “I like it,” Changmin continues. “But why do you want me to wear it?”

“Changmin. Please,” Youngtak-hyung says, at the same time Yunho steps into their hotel room with a brief cacophony of sound.

“Changdollie, we’re going to miss our car,” he says, when he sees Changmin standing in the middle of the room. He’s already dressed in jeans and sneakers with a hat and sunglasses covering both eyes. He’s got earrings in. His shirt’s a t-shirt, red to match Changmin’s. It says ‘I’m a model’ in white block letters across the chest in English.

Changmin doesn’t have to look over at where his stylist is still holding his own t-shirt to know that it’s the exact same font and typeset.

His mouth falls open.

“Yunho.” Youngtak-hyung pinches the bridge of his nose. “I told you we’d meet at the car.”

Changmin turns his attention towards their manager. “Yah,” he manages. “You were going to surprise me with this?” His voice goes high and squeaky at the end, but he can’t be bothered to try to even save face, he’s so horrified. “You were going to surprise me with this!”

“Changmin--”

“You were going to put me in that and walk me downstairs to the lobby where _our entire company is waiting_ so that I wouldn’t be able to escape!”

“Changmin--”

“Hyung!” Changmin turns back towards Yunho. “Do something!”

Youngtak-hyung lowers his hand away from his face. “The car, Yunho,” he says again. “The car.”

“Sorry,” Yunho says. He does actually sound it.

Changmin makes an aborted scoffing noise because he doesn’t actually want to murder Yountak-hyung.

“But Changdollie.” Yunho keeps talking.

Changmin looks at him, still itching to fight something. Has he been calling Changmin ‘Changdollie’ the entire stay in Osaka? Has Changmin been answering to it without so much as a pause, and is that why Heechul-hyung keeps snickering at him and Donghae-hyung keeps cuddling up to Hyukjae-hyung and saying shit like ‘we’re cuter, aren’t we?’ to anyone with a working set of ovaries?

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Yunho finishes, with no regard for Changmin’s breakdown.

Changmin turns towards his stylist. “Noona,” he pleads. “It’s a company show.” The entirety of SM Town will be on the same flight with them heading back to Seoul. Everyone is going to see him and Yunho in their matching _couple’s t-shirts_.

His stylist looks back at him, unimpressed.

Changmin turns his attention towards Youngtak-hyung instead. “Hyung,” he whines. “Hyung, everybody is going to see.”

Minho is never going to stop laughing at him. Someone is going to take a photo and send it to Kyu and Kyu is going to make it every single wallpaper in his life and literally never let Changmin escape it. It’ll end up in their wedding. Their parents will frame the photos and display them in their living rooms. When Changmin and Yunho have not twenty-five children they’ll be given the photos in a scrapbook on their tenth birthdays.

Changmin cannot be seen in public wearing a matching couple shirt with Yunho.

“Changmin-ah,” Youngtak-hyung is saying again. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Hyung,” is all Changmin manages. Kyuline will make it a big deal.

Yunho keeps blinking between the two of them obliviously, before his eyes light on Changmin’s t-shirt. “Ah,” he says, nodding. “That’s why it was familiar.” He raises his voice. “Noona!” Whichever stylist he’s calling out to must be further down the hall making sure the rest of their label mates look flight-ready, but not out of earshot, because Yunho only cranes his head around a little before continuing. “Did you make this to match Changminnie’s, or was it a set?”

Changmin darts forward to grab him with a hand over his mouth and a hand on his shoulder, ears on fire.

“Yunho-hyung!” he shrieks, hauling the older man into the hotel room and shutting the door with a “Sorry, Noona, talk to you later!” He lets go of Yunho’s mouth. “Don’t shout it for everyone to hear!”

Yunho blinks up at Changmin, clearly startled.

Youngtak-hyung just keeps looking at him beseechingly.

Changmin holds his ground.

“Changdol-ah.” Yunho’s brought out the big guns. “There are going to be paparazzi. Everyone’s going to see.”

Changmin feels his face heat even more, because some part of him likes the idea of being seen in matching couple’s t-shirts with Yunho like they’re newlyweds. “No they won’t,” he says. “Because I’m not wearing it.” He swallows. “Kyu will never let me live it down.”

“Kyu’s not here,” Yunho says, with an odd quirk to his mouth.

“Heechul-hyung,” Changmin hurries to tack on. “Donghae-hyung. Siwon-hyung. Hyukjae-hyung. Teukie-hyung--”

“You could just say Suju,” Yunho tries to interject.

“Heechul-hyung will find a way to put the pictures into our wedding,” Changmin keeps going, then breaks off to blush more fully at the thought of marrying Yunho.

Yunho’s breathing went a little funny when he said wedding.

Changmin shouldn’t be as into that as he is.

“Hyung,” Changmin appeals to Youngtak-hyung, ignoring Yunho. “I said no fanservice. No using our relationship like that.”

His stylist finally breaks her silence. “It was my idea,” she says.

Changmin turns towards her, aghast. “What?”

“I never get to style couples,” she explains, cheeks flushing a little. “I mean, you two always match, because you’re in a group, but you never _match_. Not like. Not like that.” She smooths a hand down Changmin’s t-shirt. “I made them. And I thought it was cute. Sorry, Changmin. Yunho-oppa.”

The smile she gives Yunho is a little wistful and a lot calculated, Changmin thinks.

Also, it’s working.

Changmin chews on the inside of his cheek to keep from giving in.

Finally, Youngtak-hyung sighs. “Do we have to change Yunho’s outfit?” he says.

Yunho frowns. “What, why? It’s just a t-shirt--” Yunho shifts a little, and Changmin realizes he’s been holding him by the arm this whole time.

He lets got hesitantly, first loosing the grip he has on Yunho’s bicep, and then lingering like he can’t help but keep touching the man.

“So is Changmin’s,” Youngtak-hyung replies. “And he’s already worn one like it, so the fans are going to make the connection. ‘Sorry girls I only date models.’ ‘I’m a model.’” He snorts. “It’s clever.”

Stylist-noona makes a pleased noise.

“Everyone will know.” Their manager pauses, clearly thinking. “Although…” He trails off. “That might work anyway.”

“Yah.” Changmin frowns at him. “I said no using our relationship for fan service.”

Youngtak-hyung looks patronizing. “It’s just a t-shirt, Changmin-ah,” he says.

Changmin can’t murder the man only one year into working with him. He turns to Yunho for support, and instead finds his mate looking almost longingly down at the slogan slapped across his t-shirt. He looks more wistful than Changmin’s stylist had, and it really is _unfair_.

Changmin has a horrible, sinking feeling. “Hyung,” he says.

Yunho looks up immediately to meet his eyes, knowing just from that one word that Changmin means him.

“Hyung,” Changmin repeats in affirmative. “Do you--Do you like it?”

For a second, Yunho seems startled. Then he goes beautifully, sweetly pink to the point where Changmin’s teeth ache. “Shut up,” he says quickly. “I don’t--no--what-- Youngtak-ah, I’ll change.”

Changmin keeps staring at him with his mouth half parted. “You do,” he realizes.

“No,” Yunho keeps saying. “No. It’s dumb. Jihye and Suckhee just got married; of course they’ve got couple’s presents--”

“You do like it!” Changmin says over him, crowing despite the fact that some part of him is shouting he’s committing self-sabotage. “I knew you liked the couple’s things Jihye and Suckhee ordered!”

“He’s older than you,” Yunho says miserably. “And shut up. You thought they were cute too.”

“I thought they were excessive,” Changmin says, thinking of the giant letters Jihye and her husband have underneath their TV in their home.

“You thought they were cute!” Yunho protests. “I’ve seen your browser history. I speak to my sister. You wanted to order us some too!”

“I did not!” Changmin says, vowing to find a way to get back at his sister in law without causing her undue stress this early post having a baby.

“You did too,” retorts Yunho, crossing his arms across his chest.

Changmin doesn’t know what to do with him.

Youngtak-hyung clearly doesn’t know what to do with the two of _them_. “Can we go back to picking outfits for our flight?” the man asks.

Yunho shoots him a grateful look. “Thank you,” he says. “Noona.”

Changmin’s stylist stands to attention.

“Sorry. Do you have another shirt for me?”

“Oh, um--”

“Yah,” Changmin says, before she can help Yunho strip off. “Yah, hold on.”

They all turn to look at him expectantly.

Yunho’s still blushing a little around the tips of his ears. It’s adorable. Changmin is fucked in the extreme, literally and figuratively.

“I hate you,” he tells Yunho clearly, before reaching for the t-shirt.

His stylist releases it easily enough.

“I _hate_ you,” he tells Yunho again, before shoving his face into the fabric.

There’s a beat.

Yunho is silent for the entire two seconds it takes Changmin to finish pulling the shirt over his head.

His stylist reaches for his hair immediately, fussing with the fall of Changmin’s bangs.

“I need a hat,” Changmin says. “And a mask.”

“Lord,” Youngtak-hyung mutters.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho says, with sparkles in his eyes. The sunglasses are still down by his mouth.

“And sunglasses,” Changmin says. His ears feel hot.

His stylist frowns. “You can’t wear a hat and sunglasses and a mask, Oppa,” she says. “Nobody will be able to see your face.”

Changmin manages to break eye contact with his other half. “Noona.”

“The press have already been called,” Youngtak-hyung adds. “They’ll need to see your face.”

Changmin wants to say very unkind things, but refrains. “Hyung,” he whines instead.

Yunho gets himself back together enough to clap Changmin once on the shoulder. “Rock Paper Scissors for the glasses,” he says.

Changmin scowls.

Changmin loses.

Changmin wears a facemask and a hat down to the lobby, where Minho takes one look at him and bursts into unrestrained laughter, and the entirety of Suju pull out their phones to take photos of them.

\--

On the plane, Changmin gets horrific, embarrassingly cold feet, and locks himself in the bathroom with Minho. It’s probably the nerves that convince him it’s a good idea. They’re wrong.

“Um. Hyung,” Minho says. He has the decency to give Changmin a couple of seconds to explain himself before speaking. Changmin thinks that’s nice. Kyuhyun wouldn’t have waited more than a breath to start laughing hysterically at him.

But then, that might have helped Changmin’s nerves, and now Changmin’s thinking about how he’s got to wait only slightly less than year to get his best friend back.

Minho is still staring at him, and still kindly not saying anything.

Changmin really does adore him. “Minho-yah,’ he says, feeling sentimental on top of anxious, now. “I--”

“You cannot lock me inside a bathroom, Changmin-hyung,” interrupts Minho quickly. “Yunho-hyung will kill me.”

Changmin closes his mouth around what was totally just going to be praise, and not a love profession. “Minho-yah.”

“No, Yunho-yah,” Minho corrects daringly. “He will _murder_ me.”

Changmin starts to say something about how Yunho only gets murderously jealous in heat, and then he thinks about Yunho’s last non-existent heat, and then he feels even worse, because Yunho had been so utterly disappointed by the fact that the company was recommending they spend the spring of 2018 on pills. The shirt thing is _progress_. Changmin shouldn’t be ruining it.  

Minho shoves him. “Hyung,” he says. “Stop that.”

Changmin feels stretched thin and miserable.

Minho doesn’t say it’s fine. Minho’s good like that.

Changmin really wants to hug him. He does. It’s awkward in the incredibly cramped space of the airplane bathroom.

“Erm,” Minho says somewhere near Changmin’s left ear. “Changmin-hyung?”

“I’m nervous, Minho-yah,” Changmin says. Somehow, it’s easier to admit that when he only has to look at a plane toilet, and not Minho’s face.

Minho pulls back to an arm’s width and takes Changmin by the arms. He frowns.

It’s definitely easier to have admitted that to a toilet and not to Minho’s face.

“Why?” Minho asks.

Changmin tries to get free of his friend’s scrutiny. “Minho.”

“Changmin-hyung.” Minho doesn’t let go and gives Changmin a quick shake.  “Why are you nervous.”

Changmin gives up on escaping Minho’s clutches and settles for trying to find literally anything else to focus on. The mirror is out because if he looks at the mirror, he’ll have to face his own horrified, shell-shocked expression; the sink is out because it’s not really all that interesting; the _toilet_ is easiest, and also safest. Changmin might need it, and he could blame it on turbulence.

“Hyung.” Minho’s gotten impatient.

“It’s just really obvious?” Changmin says quickly, finally meeting his friend’s overly concerned eyes. “The shirt. Thing.”

Minho stops looking quite so  sympathetic. “Changmin,” he says.

“No, shut up,” Changmin snaps quickly, embarrassed enough that it has to be showing on the high points of his cheeks. “I’m not obvious--”

Minho lets go of his arms and gets him by the wrists instead. “Hyung,” he says. “You literally like always wear Yunho-hyung’s bracelet--you’re wearing it right now.”

“I don’t,” Changmin protests fruitlessly. “I’m not--”

Minho grabs him more solidly by the left wrist and lift’s Changmin’s hand, then stops. “Huh,” he says. “You’re not.”

Changmin takes his hands back and rubs at the skin of his left wrist smugly. “Nope.” He drags out the end of the word.

Minho’s eyes narrow. “Where is it?” he says. “You wore it on the plane here.”

Changmin readies his most pretentious look and opens his mouth to tell Minho absolutely nothing. “Yunho-hyung,” says Changmin instead. Clearly, he has no filter.

Minho lapses into blatantly amused laughter. “Hyung,” he manages.

Changmin’s ears are on fire in the tiny bathroom. He’s a flight hazard, and he feels like he could set off a smoke detector. “I didn’t give it to him,” he tries to clarify, scrabbling uselessly at the sides of the grave he’s gone and dug for himself. “He took it off me in the car.”

“So you were going to wear it,” says Minho.

“I always wear it!” Changmin retorts instantly, without even thinking. “I mean!” Realization is like an ice bucket. “Fuck off!”

Minho looks like his birthday has come early, which is a stupid metaphor, since Minho’s turning twenty-eight this year, and that’s way too close to ‘need to enlist’ and also thirty.

“You’re turning twenty-eight, you asshole!” Changmin half-shouts at him.

Minho pauses. “What?”

“Never mind!” Changmin continues. “Leave me alone!”

Minho looks at him funny. “You dragged me in here,” he says slowly.

Changmin did, but he’s not about to admit that. “You tricked me,” he says instead.

Minho allows the subject change. “Into admitting you’re always wearing Yunho-hyung’s bracelet and being super obvious about how much of a knot you have for him?” he says. “Uh… guilty.” His brow lifts. “But so are you, of all of those things… so…”

Changmin sticks his nose in the air. “It is not obvious,” he says with great dignity. “Nobody knows that bracelet is from him.”

There is a brief silence.

“Uh,” Minho says.

“Fuck you,” Changmin says.

“Changmin-hyung,” Minho says.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Changmin repeats.

Minho raises both hands and backs towards the toilets. “No thank you,” he says pleasantly. “But, uh, for sure that’s what everyone outside thinks is happening.” He pauses. “Yunho-hyung included. I’m going to die young.”

Changmin snorts at him. “Yunho isn’t going to kill you,” he says.

Minho’s mouth opens.

“You’re on the list.” Changmin keeps going regardless. “Of people we’d sleep with if threesomes didn’t make us both break out in possessive hives.” He turns to open the bathroom door.

Minho grabs him by the arm. “Wait, what?” he says. “Changmin-hyung. What?”

Changmin shoots him an unimpressed look. “I said threesome, Minho-yah.”

Minho is actually blushing.

“The offer is only good if Yunho comes with.”

Minho is actually _sputtering_.

Changmin wants to frame this moment forever and always, for Minho’s embarrassed and vaguely horrified expression alone. He holds his poker face for three more seconds, then breaks with a bark of laughter.

“Hyung!” Minho punches him immediately in the arm. “Chwang-hyung! Gross!”

Changmin wipes fake tears from the corners of his eyes. “Careful, that’s the love of my life you’re turning down sex with,” he says. “He’s amazing.”

“I know,” says Minho. “On stage. And backstage. And when I see him at SM. But I don’t need to know how he is in bed, Changmin!”

Changmin snickers some more. “But you bought us Kyungtae, Minho-yah,” he points out.

Minho’s face cycles through like three different emotions. “Gross, Hyung!” he settles for.

Changmin isn’t even offended. “I love you too, Choi-seonsaengnim,” he says happily.

Minho punches him in the arm again. “Dick,” he says.

“You’re the one who turned it down,” Changmin says. “I even offered Yunho.”

“Like Yunho-hyung does anything he doesn’t want to do,” scoffs Minho.

Changmin kind of wants to hug him some more. “Your loss,” he says instead.

Minho scowls at him some more, but the flush sits still visible under his skin. “Anyway,” he says. “To return to the original point of this conversation.”

Changmin lifts a brow.

“You love Yunho-hyung,” Minho says.

Changmin nods.

“The world knows that you love Yunho-hyung,” Minho continues.

Changmin nods in concession of that point as well.

“What’s the harm in showing that off, a little, then?’ Minho finishes with.

Changmin doesn’t have a good answer for that.

Minho looks pleased. “There isn’t one,” he determines. “You’re convinced. I’m amazing at advice.”

He kind of is, but Changmin isn’t about to admit that to him. “You’re so humble and thoughtful, Choi-seonsaengnim,” he says.

“I am a genius, thank you, Hyung,” Minho says. “You’re welcome.”

Changmin shuts his eyes for a brief second.

“Also, you can’t be all opposed to it if you gave Yunho-hyung your bracelet.” Minho crosses past Changmin to pull open the bathroom door. “That’s fucking _romantic,_ Changmin-hyung.”

Changmin files after him only sputtering a little. “Shut up,” he says.

Minho mimes sealing his mouth with a locking zip and then throws away the key.

“Shut _up_ ,” Changmin says a little more forcefully.

Yunho is exactly where Changmin left him in a row all to himself, turned all the way around in the middle seat to talk to Taemin, who left SHINee to take residence in the empty row directly behind Yunho and Changmin. Heechul-hyung and Donghae-hyung are in the row in front, leaning over the top of the seat to talk as well.

Changmin spares a quick glance to figure out that Youngtak-hyung has ended up over by some of the other manager-hyungs talking things over, before heading over to join Yunho.

“Are you sure you’re not jealous, Yurobbong?” Heechul-hyung is saying when Changmin gets within earshot. “They were in there for ages.”

 “I’m not,” Yunho says as Changmin and Minho reach them. “I love Minho. I’d totally have a threesome with Minho.”

Minho trips on air.

Changmin steads him gleefully, before going around him to take his place in the aisle seat next to Yunho. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Yunho replies.

“Gross,” Heechul-hyung says. “Minho’s like only muscle.”

“So is Changmin,” Yunho says, not looking away from Changmin’s face. “Clearly I have a type.”

Minho chokes on his own breath for a few moments and Taemin claps him on the back a few times in concern.

“Hyung?”

“We should go back to our seats, Taemin-ah,” Minho manages finally, with a dark look cast in Changmin’s direction. “Changmin-hyung.” He bows. “Heechul-hyung.” He bows again. “Yunho-hyung.” He bows, then pauses with a terrible, terrible smirk. “Nice bracelet.”

He drops one hand towards Yunho’s left wrist.

Changmin sputters.

Yunho smiles. “Isn’t it?” he says.

“Minho-yah,” Changmin growls.

Minho drags Taemin away laughing.

Heechul-hyung and Donghae-hyung have both leaned even further over the seats to see said bracelet, tugging on Yunho’s hand so they can get a better look.

“Wait,” Heechul-hyung says. “Wait. Yunho-yah.”

Yunho looks unbelievably smug about the entire situation, turning his hand this way and that so that Heechul-hyung and Donghae-hyung can get the full effect of the Hermes bracelet.

Changmin is for a second terribly happy to see the thing looped around Yunho’s wrist.

“Isn’t this-- Yah. Yunho-yah. Yunho-yah. Isn’t this that bracelet?” Heechul-hyung continues saying. “Yunho-yah.” He lets go of Yunho’s hand and shoves it back down so that Yunho goes sprawling more deeply into his seat.

Yunho is practically radiating contentment.

Changmin doesn’t even know where to start.

“Changmin-ah,” Heechul-hyung says next. “Changmin- _ah_.” He manages to put a lot of pride into those three syllables.

Changmin flushes for what feels like the hundredth time. He grabs Yunho by the left hand and unhooks the bracelet, ignoring the way the other man starts to audibly protest. “Go away, Heechul-hyung,” he says

Heechul-hyung just cackles more. “You’re not wearing yours,” he says, since Changmin’s bare left wrist is all the more apparent now. “You really gave it to him--”

Changmin finishes rehooking the bracelet around his left wrist, and reaches down to fish through his bag for the other one he took off when Yunho kissed him in the car and stole the Chaine d’Ancre in the first place. He slides that one on as well, gives his wrist a twist, and then lets Yunho get him by the left hand.

“We’re in couple’s t-shirts,” he tells his still pouting other half. “Get over it.”

“Changdollie,” Yunho says.

“And I didn’t give it to him,” he tells Heechul-hyung. “He stole it.”

Yunho laces their hands more firmly together and then refuses to let go, keeping Changmin’s hand pulled over into his lap with the bracelet glinting in the light between his thighs.

“Yeah, okay.” Heechul-hyung sounds entirely unconvinced.

Changmin can’t help but give Yunho’s hand a squeeze. “Go away, Heechul-hyung,” he says again.

Yunho squeezes his hand back. “You okay?’ he asks.

Changmin wants to hug him and never let go. “Yeah,” he replies.

Yunho keeps smiling gently at him. “I can take it off I you want,” he says. “The shirt, I mean. Not the bracelet. You clearly want that, and already took it off.”

Changmin tightens his hold on him as if to say ‘please shut up.’

Yunho pinks a tiny bit but keeps smiling. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, I’ll change, Changdol.”

Changmin loves him so much he could burst. “I love you,” he says.

Heechul-hyung makes a choked noise and finally retreats with Donghae-hyung, rolling his eyes fondly all the while. “Come on, Donghae-yah. Hyung needs to go brush his teeth--”

Changmin tunes them out.

Yunho just grins wider. “I love you too.”

Changmin ducks his head, suddenly shy.

“Model-ah,” Yunho continues.

“I thought you were the model?”

Yunho knocks their shoulders together, then just stays pressed up to Changmin like the world’s loveliest and most comforting arm rest. “True,” he says. “I’m your model.”

“Sap,” Changmin mutters, but darts in to kiss him on the mouth anyway.

“Your sap,” Yunho says.

Changmin kisses him harder.

\--

\--

end.

**Author's Note:**

> This was… spontaneous. But tbf, I’ve wanted to make the “I’m a model” joke for month so… nobody should be surprised. What everybody should do is appreciate the wonder that are Kinah’s edits. I did terrible things to them in the name of making a fake tweet but HER EDITS. ARE FAB.
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/177493258635/i-get-nervous-every-single-day-baby-youre-mine) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/1034543786406367233)


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